


Ash and Honey

by roxyryoko



Series: Drabbles in the Dark [16]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Church Route, Mentioned Black Eagles Students (Fire Emblem), Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), bee metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:47:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23904862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxyryoko/pseuds/roxyryoko
Summary: Once, Dorothea stood upon the Mittelfrank stage as a radiant star, but now with Enbarr under siege, she's in just as much ruin as the city. As her life fades, her mind drifts to a certain bee.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Dorothea Arnault
Series: Drabbles in the Dark [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590193
Comments: 26
Kudos: 72
Collections: Those Who Drabble in the Dark





	Ash and Honey

**Author's Note:**

> This week's prompt was "taste"!

Once, Dorothea stood on this stage, poised and radiant, basked in twinkling lights, lungs full of song and purpose, the spectacle of dreams—a dream a street urchin could have never imagined. The wolves gathered to witness her, drawn to a siren who never sang for them. They leered at the flower on the dais, hoping to pluck it and adorn their coats with a pretty corsage, always too blinded by the petals to _really_ know Dorothea. Yet, why should she bother baring her soul to those with hollow adoration that always, _always_ left her wanting in satisfaction? 

Or perhaps it was Dorothea who just could never be enough.

Now, Dorothea lay crumpled on the ruins of the stage, pinned under a fallen beam, lucid and bleeding, lungs beleaguered for air, gazing blearily at the foreboding gleam of raging flames that inched ever closer and a red skyline that glimmered through shattered windows. Her strength spent, no magic would beckon to her call. She was but a rose wilting in the dark, covered in soot and blood and countless scars. 

She closed her eyes. A lovely candle flickering out in the opera house she adored seemed preferable to never burning at all in the streets of a city under siege. 

Did everyone else make it out alive? The Goddess never batted an eyelash at her before, but Dorothea prayed that she safeguarded the opera troupe as they fled the city.

After all, war was cruel, but man was more cruel. 

She wheezed weakly and felt her head spinning, dark sleep stealing her breath.

_“Dorothea, here, let me tend to it,” Ferdinand offered, reaching for the pouch full of medical supplies strapped to his horse._

_Wearily, she leaned against the steed, clutching her arm which oozed crimson between her fingers. She willed magic into the wound, but fatigue leeched her strength and hindered her spell.  
_

_Full of spite, she laughed, “I suppose my efforts to catch a husband are in vain now. No one wants an imperfect flower.”  
_

_She knew her arm was not the only blemished section of her body. Her cheek stung horribly, dripping blood into her lips, and her thigh was wrecked from a spear._

_Ferdinand frowned, hands full of supplies. “Then they are fools.”_

_She blinked at him as he tenderly removed her hand and set to work cleaning her injury._

_He continued, “Fortunately, bees aren’t attracted to the radiance of the flower, but instead allured by the sweet nectar that resides beyond the exterior.”_

_Dorothea averted her gaze and feigned a laugh, but her self-hatred clung to it like a disease. “There’s no nectar in this flower, Ferdie.”_

_“Of that you are mistaken. I think this flower’s ethereal beauty is equally matched by the sweet nectar of her soul.” He smiled warmly at her and Dorothea couldn’t stop the blush that crept over her cheeks. “Back to the subject of suitors...I do not believe the Goddess ever intended for such misguided scoundrels to be gifted with ambrosia.”  
_

_He chuckled and his smile turned rueful, “Though, forgive me for hoping the bee fares better.”_

_Dorothea shifted uncomfortably and mumbled, “I think he may.”_

_Ferdinand's cheeks matched hers. “It warms my heart to know that.”  
_

_Carefully, he applied a poultice to her injury, fingers tickling across her flesh. A shiver wracked her body and she knew it wasn’t from her aching wound._

_“Don’t get too excited. You’re still a noble pain.”_

A fit of coughs seized Dorothea, burning her throat and lungs. The air was so thick with smoke that when she strained open her eyes they instantly watered. She squeezed them shut. If she had breath she’d laugh. How humorous that her final thoughts turned to Ferdinand.

For so long she thought he was just like so many other men who pined after the rose of Mittelfrank. Yet...well, too late for such thoughts.

“Dorothea!” someone bellowed, the cry barely breaking above the crackle of wood and the roar of flames.

For a moment she fooled herself into believing that it was Ferdinand. Then the voice repeated her name several times more, growing louder. Her heart leapt to her throat. She was not mistaken; it was him! She opened her mouth and tried to call for him, but she could only choke. 

A rush of heavy footsteps clanged towards her. She blinked open her eyes. Fuzzy though her vision was, she could make out two silhouettes looming above her.

“Guys! She’s over here! Come on, hurry!”  
  
One figure darted to her side and heaved fruitlessly at the beam, a labored growl accompanying each pull. It teetered slightly on her chest. 

Someone squeezed her arm. “We will be getting you to safety, Dorothea. Do not have worry.” 

Others joined them, stampeding toward her. She squinted and she could make out fiery hair that rivaled the color of the surrounding blaze. Even before he spoke, her heart fluttered, knowing Ferdinand had come for her.

“Good eye, Caspar!” he said.

Maybe she dreamed it but she swore he touched her cheek for just a moment.

“Now everyone! Let’s work together and get her out of here with all due haste!”

They all scampered to different sections of the beam and tugged.

“You don’t gotta tell me twice!” Caspar groaned. “Cmon, Linhardt put your back into it!”

“Conserving your energy for lifting rather than talking would do us all a great service,” the mage commented, voice saturated with stress.

The beam creaked and a chorus of grunts rang out with it. Slowly, the weight it bore eased off her body. They lifted it over her head, and she heard as well as felt the vibration of it crashing to the ground behind her. Dorothea gasped, but the air she sucked in was shallow and only rewarded her with more coughs.

Everyone rushed back to her side. Within seconds, the familiar warmth of white magic caressed her skin, tenderly mending her burns and binding cracked ribs back together. All her friends talked at once, offering comforting thoughts and relieved tears, yet she could only focus on Ferdinand crouched at her side, rubbing soothing circles into her palm.

“There,” Lindhardt said at last, ceasing his spell. “That should be efficient. Now, let’s evacuate before I collapse like this building. I’ve barely an ounce of strength left in me after so much exertion.”

Ferdinand quickly gathered Dorothea into his arms, lifting her up carefully. She melted into his embrace, tears spilling out over singed cheeks.

“Have no doubt,” he whispered so sweetly that another tear slipped out, “you are safe now, my love.”

Fire rained down around them as they scampered to the exit. Bernadetta shrieked and Caspar swore, but the sound was muffled to Dorothea’s ears. Ferdinand held her impossibly close, tucking her against his chest to protect her from the falling, burning debris. 

Soon they escaped to the outside. Enbarr as a whole fared little better than the opera house. A city in ruins lay before her squinting eyes. Soldiers clashed in the distance and citizens hid behind overturned carts and broken doors, clutching loved ones closed. The battle was still far from over. 

War was cruel.

But not all men were.

“Dorothea’s safe in my care,” Ferdinand told the others. “The rest of you should offer aid to the citizens or head to the palace after the Professor.” 

Hesitantly, they agreed and scattered. Soon the only ones who remained were Ferdinand and Dorothea, still nestled in his arms. He brought her to the ground to lay her down, but Dorothea used the remainder of her strength to hold tight to his shoulders.

“You called me ‘my love’,” she managed to croak out.

Ferdinand blushed and averted his gaze. “I beg your pardon. That was unfairly forthcoming of me. You must be quite baffled. Please forgive my poorly timed proclamation as a heat of the moment reaction. I would have much rather admitted the depth of my feelings in a—” 

Dorothea silenced him with a quick peck on the lips. When she pulled back shocked amber eyes met her smile.

“I didn’t mind,” she said. “In fact, I could easily get used to it.”

Slowly, she stretched upward and kissed him again. Ferdinand hesitated but his lips parted and he returned her affection. His mouth tasted of ash and blood, but the reverent way he kissed her back was sweet like honey.

She hummed when they parted and nuzzled into his chest. “I gave you a nickname the first day of school, it’s about time you came up with one for me.”

Ferdinand hugged her close, completely falling to his knees. He smiled wide and whispered into her hair, “Dorothea, my love, may I kiss you again?”

She giggled weakly and lifted her chin. “You may.”


End file.
